A Big Fish Story
by Goldylokz
Summary: The on-again-off-again relationship between Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon meets a turning point when Bruce Wayne reveals a secret to Dick. His violent reaction is cut short when he receives word that Barbara is in the hospital. How does the former Boy Wonder react? Takes place after Batman:TAS and Batman Beyond flashbacks. Doesn't have perfect continuity. Oneshot.


This story takes place in the _Batman: The Animated Series/Batman Beyond_ Universe. It contains spoilers revealed in the _Batman Beyond 2.0_ comic series about the last straws that broke the original Bat-family apart. In the timeline, it takes place shortly after _Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker_ flashbacks and the flashbacks revealed in _Batman Beyond 2.0: Mark of the Phantasm_. It doesn't quite fit with the rest of the _Batman Beyond_ continuity, but, hey, that's what fan fiction is for.

* * *

 _A Big Fish Story_

No matter how old I get, how much experience I accumulate, Bruce Wayne always surprises me. I guess my fault lies in the assumption that I, my feelings, my happiness, mean as much to Bruce as those between a father and son.

He had been my father for over half of my life now. Dysfunctional father, but still. I idolized him and used to seek his wisdom and advice. As I got older, my trust faded. He still wanted an obedient child, but I was growing up. I wanted to be a partner, an equal. He kept things from me that I thought should be shared with a partner, with family. Despite my distrust, I still believed he loved me and wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I thought that he just didn't understand how to adapt to my being an adult.

I set myself up for the surprises, the disappointment, and the heartache. What kind of father sleeps with his son's on-again-off-again girlfriend? Worse, gets her pregnant? [1] There is no way he ever loved me as his son. He couldn't say it with his words, and he sure as hell didn't show it with his actions.

As he let me pound his face with my fists, I realized that at least a part of him felt that what he did was wrong. That maybe he did feel guilt for hurting his "son." He was letting me punish him in the one of the few languages he understood anymore: violence. I paused for a second as I realized this. He opened his eyes; one was almost swollen shut. He opened his mouth slightly to say something, and I felt my anger swelling up again. I couldn't hear one more hardhearted, calculated word come from his mouth.

The shrill ring of my phone cut through my blinding anger. I paused. I looked down at Bruce's bloody face, my fists still clenched. I took a deep breath, stood up, and walked to the phone. I'm not sure when I would have stopped beating him if the phone never rang. How long does it take to dissipate such pain?

A glance at the phone's CallerID brought more pain: it was Commissioner Jim Gordon's phone. Babs probably stopped by her dad's house while running her errands. Could I keep a cool head as I talked to her? Did I want to?

My finger hovered over the red ignore button. On the last ring before voicemail, it jumped to the green answer button. I still had another second to compose myself before the call truly connected. I took another deep breath and closed my eyes.

"Hello." The word was dry, cold, emotionless. Babs would know something was wrong.

"Hello, Dick," Commissioner Jim Gordon greeted me solemnly. He only said two words, but they dripped with worry, compassion, and empathy. He had something to tell me that would upset me. It seemed strange that Babs would make her Dad tell me about Bruce's baby. She'd want to tell me herself. Why was Bruce even here? Goddamn meddling bastard.

I heard a sharp inhalation on the phone, bringing my attention back to the present. My stomach dropped. Why was the Commish calling?

"Barbara's in the hospital," he said. My hands grew cold under Bruce's warm blood. "Gotham General. I'm here now."

I heard Bruce stirring, pretending not to be eavesdropping. I walked across the room. Unfortunately, to minimize what Bruce could hear of the Commish's words, I had to face him. I had to look at the job I did on his face, listen to the Commish tell me about some unknown fate that had befallen Babs, and choose my words carefully to minimize any clues Bruce could derive from hearing them or reading my lips. "What happened?"

"They found her in a lot of pain next to an unconscious mugger. They think there's some sort of internal bleeding."

I gulped. The baby. His baby - no, her baby. I couldn't think of a way to tell the Commish what I had just been told without giving the story away to Bruce. Besides, who knows if it was true or just another manipulation by the Old Man. My vision focused on his still, investigating form. His bruises were gaining color. No, he wouldn't have let me beat him if it wasn't true. Masochistic son of a bitch.

"Why did you call me?" I asked instead. Babs and I had only started seeing each other (again) a few weeks ago [1]. I wasn't sure if she had told her dad yet.

"Barbara insisted. She wasn't able to say a lot, but… she needs you, Dick." The Commissioner chuckled. "I can't say I was surprised. You two can't seem to stay apart for long." He paused. "Is something wrong? You're a little more trite than usual."

"Unwelcome company," I growled and glared at Bruce who had moved closer to the window.

"Oh. I won't keep you any longer then. Bye, Dick."

"Thanks for calling. I'll be there soon." I disconnected the call.

I didn't take my eyes off Bruce as I prepared to leave. I set my phone facedown on the desk. I kept my eyes on Bruce as I put on my shoes. I stood up, threw my jacket on, and slipped my phone in the inside pocket. "You can see yourself out." I opened the front door and stepped through; my bloody hands could wait. I focused my anger into closing the door gently and meaningfully.

When there was only two centimeters before the door shut completely, Bruce spoke once more: "Which hospital?" he asked.

I felt the anger boiling inside of me again. Why did I even bother? I could have put the phone on speaker. I refused to face him and kept my face in the light of the hallway. "Why ask me, Bruce? You could have followed me there. Hell, you won't need to follow me. You could probably make a few calls, and know the answer in five minutes."

He paused. "You know why."

"Really, Bruce? Then why beat around the bush? I don't want you there. I doubt Babs wants you there either."

"You don't know that."

I spun around and flung the door back. "Yes, I do. So do you. Did she ask for _you_ , Bruce? Did her father call _you_ , Bruce?" Then a lightbulb flicked on. "I'm guessing she even told you herself [1]. That's why you're really here, isn't it? You want to damage me, so I'll push Babs away. Right back into your arms."

"No."

"Then it's only about the baby, then? That's even lower, Bruce. I didn't think blood was stronger than family for you."

"You're wrong, Dick."

"I've got to go." I slammed my front door and stormed to the stairs. Stop thinking about the Old Man. You've got to focus on Babs now. The Commish's words rang in my ears, "…she needs you, Dick."

Babs was my best friend; no one could understand me like her. No one could make me smile like her. No one gave it to me straight like Babs. She needs me. She wants me to be by her side. _She chose me._

Halfway down the stairs, my anger had dissipated. Anxiety took its place. How serious was Babs injury? Would she need a blood transfusion? She's has that rare AB- blood type [2], but that means she can receive any type negative blood, so that shouldn't be a big issue.

At the foot of the stairs I stopped. What if she didn't make it? What would I do without her? I knew my mind was playing wild games with me at that point, but it cemented something in my mind. I turned around and ran back up stairs to my loft. I only briefly hesitated at the door to wonder if Bruce was still inside. I shook my head and walked into my home.

Luckily, he was gone. A cold breeze blew some papers off my desk. Asshole left the window open. I saw what I came for, snatched it, and headed to the hospital.

* * *

Babs was getting scans of some sort when I arrived. I chatted with the Commish in the waiting room, but I don't remember what either of us said. I had so many emotions flowing, waning, and waxing, that even what I was seeing was blurry. I do remember that he put his hand on my shoulder. It was warm and comforting. It calmed me somehow.

When we were allowed to see her, the Commish went in first. I choked at the last step. I tried to spend the time outside her room straightening up my thoughts. A minute later, the Commish stepped out. He said it had been forty minutes. He did the comforting shoulder thing again. For a second my thoughts went tangent, and I thought he might be a meta-human or something. Two seconds later I found myself in her room. The Commish removed his hand and bid us goodnight.

I brought my eyes to hers, and she smiled. My anger and fear melted away. I smiled. I looked down, and I had her hand in mine. I didn't even remember walking to her bedside. Now that I was closer, I could see her smile was about 80% mask. Her skin was pale underneath with none of its usual rosiness. She had puffy, dark circles under her eyes. I think I saw three new worry lines stretched across her forehead. My smile began to fall and I brushed some hair behind her ear.

"I'm fine," she huffed and rolled her eyes. She kept the mask up through her voice. "You and my dad are such worry-warts! I don't know what I'm going to do with you." I didn't respond. My smile faded even more.

Still trying to dissipate the mood, she joked. "This is where you say," she dropped her voice as many octaves as she could, "'I could make you a list,' then smirk and wink. Classic Boy Wonder."

When I didn't respond, her mask faded. I couldn't say anything. Or rather, I couldn't think of what to say. My mind was overloaded and blank at the same time.

She broke eye contact and looked down at our hands. "Dad said you were crying," she whispered.

My eyes widened in surprise. "I don't remem…" My free hand shot to my face and felt some dried salt tracks. "Well, that would explain the blurred vision earlier." Silence fell between us again.

"You know then?" she asked. She grazed the dried blood on my hands with her thumb.

I shrugged, then nodded. She continued to rub my hand, decreasing the pressure where my skin was still broken from punching Bruce's chiseled jaw.

Babs looked away from me, toward the blank wall. "I wanted to… Bruce told me he was going to stay out of it. I thought I could take a day or two to figure things out." She looked up at my face. Her own eyes were welling with tears. She shook her head. "I'm… I'm kind of surprised you're here."

I pulled the guest chair closer to the bed and sat down. "What? And miss my chance to be your Florence Nightingale [3]? No way." That joke got a little smile from her.

"Can I call you Florence Nightwing-gale?"

I winced. "That pun physically hurt."

"You're one to talk. That was one of my best ones."

"Now that I can't deny." I smirked.

Babs pouted. "I'd hit you if I wasn't afraid you'd turn out to be a hallucination."

"Hallucination?" I tapped the IV bag. "What do they have in this thing?"

"Just saline. They couldn't even give me the good pain killers." She rubbed her abdomen with her free hand. "All I get is extra strength Tylenol."

At the reminder of Bruce's baby – no, Babs' baby – I broke eye contact and stared at the wall across her bed. My hand fell out of hers, and I leaned back in the chair.

"Please stay," she whispered. That was out of character for her: to ask for something. It's hard for her to admit when she needs something. She reached for my hand, but I pretended not to notice.

"So what happened, anyway?"

Babs frowned, disappointed. Oh, I hate that face. I hunched over, resting my elbows on my knees and looking at the floor.

She sighed and played with her bedsheet. "I saw a mugging after I got off the bus. Stopped him. Afterwards I got some awful cramps. I got dizzy; couldn't stand. [1]

"The doctors said that it wasn't my fault, that my fight with the mugger didn't trigger anything." Babs lowered her voice to make another impression. "'That's not how it works,' they said.

"After the ultrasound, they said everything looked fine, but I could be in the early stages of a miscarriage. They gave me a shot of progesterone, but it may or may not help. They said they wanted to keep me overnight in case I continued and needed a D & C. At the very least they'd need to give me some immunoglobin vaccine thing because of my blood type."

The room grew eerily silent. I didn't even notice that Babs was holding her breath until she gasped and broke down sobbing. I had never seen her like this. I needed to help. What should I do? What should I say? My mind threw a million suggestions at me, all worthless.

I edged onto the side of her bed and cupped one hand around her face. "It'll be okay," I said like dumbass, but my brain wasn't coming up with anything better. She turned away from me and pulled the sheet over her face.

"Don't look at me," she snapped.

I reached for her shoulder. She winced, but I placed my hand there anyway. "You don't know you're going to lose the baby. Hey, tomorrow morning we could walk out of here, go stop by your Dad's and get Woobie [4], pick up some Chinese food, head to the loft, figure out a game plan –"

Her snuffling stopped. "A game plan?" she mumbled from underneath the sheet.

"Well, I mean, the loft is awesome, but it doesn't really accommodate a kid. I guess we could put up dividers or something, but it might be better to look for a new place –"

She craned her neck to look at me over her shoulder. Her eyes were stained red. "I'm not crying, because I'm afraid I lost …" she couldn't finish her sentence. I couldn't make any sense from what she said. Babs hid her face underneath the sheet again.

My hand slid from her shoulder to her back. I rubbed her back from this strange awkward side position. I let her cry for a few minutes before trying again. "Talk to me, Babs." That's what I should have said in the first place. Not all that rambling about teddy bears and baby planning. Did I even want to me a Dad? Especially to Bruce's kid?

My jerk-brain activated and gave me an unpleasant image of Bruce and Babs together. Adorable children in capes frolicked around them. I turned away from her and put my head in my hands. Once I finally rid my mind of the images, I knew what I had to do.

I stood up abruptly. "Forget what I said." I heard her move around on the bed, but I couldn't look.

Babs peaked out from the sheets. "I don't want to."

I stood up. "It'll be better that way."

Her hand shot out and grabbed my arm tight. "No, it won't. I can't do this. I shouldn't do this." Tears were still wet on her face.

I tried to pull away gently and without looking at her face. Her grip was at sparring strength. I had to turn to get the right torque. When my eyes met hers she spoke softly. "I felt relieved. I was crying, because I felt relieved."

Nothing she had said in the last minute had made any sense. I tried to free my arm, but she knew my moves and ended up pulling me down to eye level. "I'm a monster."

Trapped and uncomfortable, I smiled. "I always did feel I was the Beauty and not the Beast in this relationship."

"I'm serious."

"Babs, you lost me ages ago. I don't know what you are talking about. The only monster I've ever seen in you is the Cookie Monster." I chuckled at our memories and stroked her hair. "Why don't you cry it out and then tell me what this is all about?" I sat down on the bed and held her close.

"When I was lying there, on the pavement, I knew I might be losing the baby. And, and I felt relieved. That my problems would be solved. What kind of mother feels that way for her child? I shouldn't be a mother."

I tried hard not to laugh, but it showed through in my voice. "Wow. Saint Barbara had one selfish thought in her entire righteous existence."

"Is that really what you think of me? Some goody-goody-two-shoes?"

"Not with what I've heard come from your mouth. But you do hold yourself to some impossible moral standards sometimes. You'd forgive actions ten times worse than that of other people, but when you slip up once, and you beat yourself up for it."

"Called the black pot." [5]

"Babs, I have no idea how good of a mother you'd be, but I do know that you are loving, pragmatic, and brave. If that's not a good foundation, I don't know what is."

I could tell she had something more to add, so I waited until she found the words. "When Bruce and I rescued Tim, Harley thought –"

"Whoa! You need to stop there. You are comparing yourself with that loon? –"

"Hear me out!" Babs interrupted. "Harley thought she could fix Tim. Despite everything that monster did to Tim, she thought her love would be enough to fix him [6]. Being a loving person isn't enough to raise a child."

I paused for the punch line. When none came, I asked, "Do you honestly believe that you are like that whack-job? Damn, those pregnancy hormones are something else."

She poked me in the chest. "Don't write this off as some sort of 'female hysteria'!"

"Babs, is it safe to say that I know you, the real you, pretty well?"

She shrugged and winked. "You're in the top three."

I winced, thinking about the other two I was probably sharing that list with. I let it pass. "Then please believe me when I say that if one day you become a mother, whether that is tomorrow or five years from now, you will be magnificent. Maybe too good. He might even go Norman Bates on you [7]."

This time Babs punched me in the chest. "That's one of the most terrifying things you've said to me. I will not be Norma Bates." She shuttered. "Disgusting."

I sneered. "You're right, I didn't think about it from the prequel standpoint. Anyways," I continued, "And if you decide you don't want a child, hey, that's okay too. Don't let one passing thought or one decision define you. Your actions and compassion over your lifetime, that's what makes you so amazing. And I wouldn't trade you in for anything." I squeezed her tighter for a few seconds.

Babs chuckled. "Dick Grayson, you'd better stop saying such stupid things before I ask you to marry me."

I froze for a second, but relaxed into a smirk. I pushed away from her and tossed her a small object from my pocket. "You always have to beat me to the punch in everything, don't you?"

She looked down, confused. "What is this?" She delicately picked the ring up from her lap.

I snorted. "I thought you wanted to be a detective."

She raised an annoyed eyebrow at me, then looked down again. "How long have you had this?" she whispered.

"A few days."

Babs raised an arm and the ring appeared to be dangling midair. "Why is there fishing line attached to it?"

"The remains of a tacky proposal idea. You're lucky Wally talked me out of it [8]." I only half-lied. Wally did think tying the ring to the first batarang I gave Batgirl was dumb, but Bruce's scene tonight made me not want to have any reminders of him around my proposal. And there I go thinking about him anyway.

"My Florence Nightwing-dale pun was 20 times better than your 'tacky' pun."

"It's all about the delivery, Babe."

"It was infinitely better than that one." She examined the ring with two hands. "So, you were thinking about this before…this other mess." Babs pointed to her stomach.

I nodded definitively. "Yes."

"And, you are still asking me?" She squinted and straightened up. "Actually, you haven't asked me anything. This so far has been kind of a fishy proposal." She shook ring at me by the fishing line.

I scrunched my nose at the bad joke. "Your low level of pun-skill doesn't fly with me."

She squinted one eye, confused. "So, you aren't asking me?"

"Didn't you ask me?"

"Mine was rhetorical…or a promise…or a warning. I don't know!"

"Babs, I told you when I came back that I wanted to be with the people I cared about. And that's you. Well, you're in the top three." I winked.

"But if I keep the baby…did you mean the things you said before? I mean, it was horribly presumptuous of you to think I wanted to raise my baby with you, but –"

"You wouldn't?" I snorted. "I mean, why would you?" What kind of Dad could I even be? Look at my father figures: circus man, a stuffy Brit, and that unfeeling masochist. I felt the anger from earlier swelling in me. I clenched my fists unconsciously.

Babs grabbed my hands and tried to massage them open. "That's not what I meant! I was trying to tease you – " she shook her head to reset the conversation. "I did. I mean, I would like to have you…with me." She pulled one of my hands to her chest and paused. "And this possibility of a baby…," she locked eyes with mine and squinted, "but could you? Knowing who the biological father is?"

I leaned back and rand my hand through my hair. "I don't know, Babs."

"So this ring is… a symbol of what I lost?"

"No! It means, I want to be with _you_. And I want to try. If you'll have me."

"But I have a lot more baggage now."

"I know."

"And you have a complicated relationship with – "

"Please don't say his name right now."

Babs rolled her eyes. "And you have a complicated relationship with," Babs deepened her voice again, "'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named [9].'"

I nodded. "Yeah, I do have a Voldemort-level hatred for him right now."

She closed her hand around the ring. "What I worry about is that if we do try this together, like I want to, that the hatred you were talking about would transcending to the wee-one. Then I would be even more of a fuck-up than I would be if we stopped this now."

I rubbed her knee. "You aren't a fuck-up."

"You're avoiding the question."

"There was no question."

She threw her hands in the air. "See, Fuck-up. With a capital F."

After a few seconds of silence I replied, "I thought about that too."

"And?"

"Can I ask you one question about you and The Dark Lord Voldemort?"

Babs groaned. I could see her age with my request. She knew I can have a jealous streak when it comes to certain people, and she knew that I can make self-depreciating and unfair comparisons. But she also knew I was working on that.

"I'm hoping it will be the only one," I added.

She sighed. "Shoot."

"Did you ask him this too?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Ask him what?"

"To raise the baby with you?"

Babs leaned toward me until our faces were only a few centimeters apart. She was unblinking. "No."

I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. "Just…remind me of that sometimes. It can get …dark in his shadow, you know?"

Babs squeezed my hand. "Your too bright for his shadow."

I could hear her words, but half of me didn't believe it. "You'd need to keep me in check. Point it out to me when I'm –"

"Being an asshole? Don't I do that now?"

"Keep doing it."

"Easy as pie. You promise to do the same?"

"Easy as 3.1415." The room grew silent again. "Do you think I'd make a good dad?"

Babs didn't hesitate. "Yes."

I raised an eyebrow. "You sure? I mean, look at my role models…"

Babs snuggled into my chest. "You might as well give up on 'cool Dad' status; your jokes disqualify you from that one. You'll be adequate, at least." She paused. "Seriously, you'll be great. Especially given the questions you're asking."

We sat in a comfortable silence for I don't know how long. I could feel her nodding off in my arms, so I laid her back on the bed. I saw the ring still in her hand and swiped it. I looked intently at the ring. Is this what I wanted?

Babs moaned. "Is it bedtime already, Nurse Nightwing-gale?"

I smirked and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "I prefer Major Hotlips [10]."

" _Major_ Hotlips, huh?" Babs snorted. "I'll be the judge of that. And with that forehead number, you aren't even a private yet, Soldier. It's all about location to get those stars."

I raised my eyebrows and mock saluted. "Aye-aye, Captain." Then I met her challenge.

I leaned back and brushed the side of her face. "Are you going to be here when I wake up, Major Hotlips?" she asked with her eyes have closed.

I smiled, grabbed her left hand, and whispered into her ear. "You've caught me in your net, Captain." I slipped the ring into her hand. "And if you think I'm a keeper, I'd like to go home with you."

She felt the ring between her fingers again. "I don't know. We have so much baggage; we may need a bigger boat [11]."

I shook my head at the joke. "You keep trying –"

She interrupted me. "And that's why you love me, right?"

I grinned. "Hook, line, and sinker."

Babs rolled her eyes. "What am I getting myself into?" She slipped the ring on her finger.

"Don't flounder. We'll have a halibut good time."

"How could I pass up this oppo- _tuna_ -ty?" Babs grinned ear-to-ear.

I shook my head. "What did _I_ get myself into?"

* * *

[1] In graphic novel/comic _Batman Beyond 2.0: Mark of the Phantasm_ (#28)

[2] Established in the animated movie _Batman & Mr. Freeze: Subzero_.

[3] Famous nurse of the Crimean War.

[4] Barbara's childhood Teddy bear as established in _Batman: The Animated Series:_ Heart of Steel. He made at least one other appearance in the show.

[5] Referring to the famous idiom, "The pot calling the kettle black," essentially meaning you are describing yourself [as well] or somewhat hypocritical.

[6] In the animated movie _Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker_.

[7] Norman Bates from the movie _Psycho_ and its prequel TV series _Bates Motel_.

[8] In graphic novel/comic _Batman Beyond 2.0_ (#16).

[9] _Harry Potter_ reference.

[10] Major Margret "Hotlips" Houlihan was the head nurse on the TV show _M.A.S.H_.

[11] Paraphrased _Jaws_ quote.


End file.
